


Family Effort

by Zelos



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Cousins, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Series, Rachel saving Jake's neck, Tom is the best big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: “Did you seriously just give Mom amopfor herbirthday?”





	Family Effort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAnotherGhostwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/gifts).



> In [Better Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11175162) there was a throwaway line about Jake buying his mother a mop for her birthday, which amused Ghostie so much I promised her to write a fic about it. This is the result.

“ _Tom!_ ”

Jake froze on the stairs. Tom’s words drifted over, the wince evident in his voice: “Sorry Mom, I was just—”

“Don’t ‘I was just’ me!” Jean Berenson’s voice was rising with the ire of giving this lecture too many times. “How many times have I told you to not wear shoes indoors? I _just_ cleaned—”

Cringing in sympathy, Jake stealthily tiptoed up the stairs. A head start on his homework seemed like a great idea right now. But halfway into his seat, he had another idea.

It _was_ a little early—they usually opened presents during or after dinner, depending on the present—but it would be useful _now_ , wouldn’t it?

Jake pulled the mop out from under his bed and swung back around, hastily pounding down the stairs. His mother was still in full lecture mode; Tom was crouched on the kitchen floor, basketball shoes in one hand and paper towels in the other, mopping up the trails of footprints.

“—don’t think I haven’t noticed you shirking your— _don_ _’t run on the stairs, Jake_ —”

“Don’t be mad, Mom,” Jake interrupted. His mother usually didn’t get so upset over little things. “He didn’t mean it.” He stuck the mop toward his mother with less flourish than he had imagined. “Happy birthday.”

Jean stopped short, blinking at her youngest. Tom looked up from his scouring with wide eyes and an expression Jake couldn’t read.

“A mop?” His mother finally said after a beat of silence. She looked like she was at a loss for words.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “You said you needed—Tom?”

Tom waved weakly at them both from where he collapsed against the nearest chair, completely beyond the power of speech; his shoes thudded on the floor again. Jake and Jean’s arrested expressions only sent him into another fit of laughter until he choked, coughing interspersed with chortles.

“Tom?” Jean tried, looking at her son like he had lost his mind. Her eyes flicked toward the stained towels fluttering from Tom’s free hand.

“Oh my god,” Tom gasped, wiping at his eyes. “That’s good. That’s—wow, you really had me there, Midget.”

“I…what?” Jake said blankly.

Tom staggered to his socked feet, still catching his breath. “When’s dinner, Mom?” He snagged the fallen paper towels and began attacking the marks on the linoleum with renewed, if breathless, vigour.

Jean gave him a long look like she didn’t trust this sudden change of subject. “The reservation is in 40 minutes. Your father is running late at the office. Again.” Her lips thinned in irritation. “He would’ve been late for our _wedding_ if your Uncle Dan hadn’t marched him out the door.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here in no time,” Tom put in brightly. He tossed the the wadded paper towel into the trash with a basketball star’s unerring aim. “I guess we should get a head start on our homework, huh?” He swept his shoes up in one hand, hooked his other arm around Jake’s shoulders, and was out of the kitchen before Jean or Jake got a word in edgewise.

As soon as they rounded the corner Tom’s arm tightened. He bodily hauled Jake up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time, and didn’t remotely slow down until the pair crashed through Tom’s bedroom door.

“Ow—what—jeez, what gives?” Jake hissed at his brother practically threw him inside.

Tom almost slammed the door and only caught it at the last second. He whirled around to stare at Jake. “Did you seriously just give Mom a _mop_ for her _birthday?_ ”

“I…yeah?”

“Did you hit your head? Get taken over by aliens?” Tom demanded. “A _mop?!_ ”

“She said she needed a new one!”

Tom buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god. How are we related.” He carded his fingers through his hair, horror struggling with disbelief. “Call Rachel.”

“What?”

“Call Rachel,” he repeated. His hair stuck up in funny directions.

“You haven’t explained why I need to call her!” Jake snapped back, voice rising.

“You’re wasting time,” Tom growled, physically wheeling Jake around and shoving him toward the (closed) door. Jake was really getting tired of being manhandled by his brother. “One, Rachel is the best person in the world to bail you out right now. Two, she will explain, in _vivid_ detail, _why_ it was a terrible idea to buy Mom a _mop_ on her _birthday_.”

“Hey—” Jake tried to protest, but instinctively quieted as Tom pushed him out into the hallway. However inexplicable Tom’s actions were, getting their mother involved would only worsen things. With a frustrated sigh, Jake plodded toward the living room to grab the phone.

Rachel answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Rachel? It’s Jake.” Jake ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious imitation of Tom. “I, ah, need your help.”

“What did you do now?”

He explained. It was a pretty short explanation. In fact, he didn’t actually get to say anything beyond “I bought a mop” before Rachel cut him off.

“You _what._ ” There was a dangerous note in Rachel’s voice that promised unpleasant things.

“Okay, can you please explain what the big deal is? Tom looks like he wants to strangle me and—”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Rachel exploded. “Your mom works, buys groceries, cooks and cleans, ferries your lazy butts to and fro, and on her _birthday_ , on the _one_ special day of the year just to herself, you buy her a _mop?_ A tool used to clean up after you even _more?_ When the whole thing started because of _your_ dirty shoes in the house?!”

When she put it that way… “Oh.” Jake wilted.

“ _Oh_ ,” Rachel echoed acidly.

“I told you,” Tom muttered. He cleverly did not admit the dirty shoes were his.

“Shut up Tom, you suck too,” Rachel shot back, not perturbed in the least at the eavesdropping on the other extension.

“Okay,” Jake interrupted before Tom could argue, “okay, I screwed up. Rachel, can you get me out of this?”

“What do you think I am, a genie? If you’d come to me two days ago I’d have gotten you the absolute best present the mall could offer and at a 75% discount to boot, but two hours? Not even! What, do you think gifts just fall out of the air? Wave a wand and they appear?”

“Come on, Rachel, please,” Jake pleaded. “We’re going to dinner in like, 30 minutes.” Probably less, unless his father called in again, and oh yeah, he was tying up the line. “What do I do? Give her chore vouchers for a year?”

“Lame,” Rachel growled. “You need vouchers for chores? What, have you been slacking on those too?”

“I—”

“Shut up, I’m thinking.”

Jake shut up. He held his breath in case the sound of breathing interfered with Rachel’s thinking.

“Get your butt over to my house,” Rachel ordered after an agonizing 30 seconds. Jake wasn’t very good at holding his breath.

“What?” His voice came out as a croak as his lungs drew in fresh air. “ _Now?_ ”

“No, tomorrow,” Rachel gritted out. “Yes, _now!_ ”

 

It took Jake 10 minutes and 42 seconds to jog over to Rachel’s house. She met him at the door, glowering. “You will never go shopping without supervision again,” she informed him, crisp and cutting.

“Never again,” Jake agreed in between pants. He peered into the gift bag she handed him. A jewellery box, perfectly adorned with a tiny silver bow, sat at the bottom. Elegant layers of blue and lavender tissue paper surrounded it, giving the impression of a flower. Or maybe a starburst.  “What’s this?”

Rachel sniffed. “Earrings.”

Jake stared at his cousin in wonder. “Where’d you get them?” It had only been 10 minutes!

“I bought them yesterday. Haven’t worn them yet.” Rachel gave the bag a look of deep reluctance. “Though I guess you need them more than I do.”

Only Rachel could perfectly wrap and bag a present in less than 10 minutes. Jake wasn’t sure if he could even find wrapping paper in that time. “Thank you thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“Damn right you will,” Rachel growled. “I’ll give you the receipt in class tomorrow. You’re paying me back every penny.”

“Every last cent,” Jake promised. “And then you can get another pair for yourself.”

“Are you kidding?” Rachel looked scornfully at him as if he’d sprouted another head. “I’m not wearing the same earrings as my aunt. Nope. That’s it. These earrings and I aren’t meant to be.”

Rachel was very particular about her clothes and accessories being different—better—than everyone else’s. Jake has never understood it. He thought it best not to try.

He frowned, feeling suddenly guilty about cheating Rachel out of a new pair of earrings. “Maybe I could—”

“Oh my god, what are you still doing here,” Rachel threw her hands up in disgust and shoved him toward the street. He was getting pushed around a lot today. “Get out of here before I change my mind. And change your shirt, you look like crap!”

“Okay okay, I’m going!” Jake hopped down the flight of steps. “Thanks again!”

Rachel had already slammed the door.

 

“So,” Steve set down his fork on the now-empty plate, “I guess it’s time for presents?”

“I guess so.” His mother’s cheeks were aglow in the candlelight. Or maybe that was the wine. The lines of her face were warm and relaxed. She finished the last of her lava cake, taking a few seconds to savour it.

Steve looked over at Jake and Tom. “Who goes first?”

“I’ll go first,” Tom declared. He swept a gift bag out from under his chair with languid grace and passed it over to their mother. She opened the bag, then the box, and lifted out a mug, white with a delicate pattern of hummingbirds drawn in gradients of blue.

“There’s a tea infuser inside,” Tom explained. “And the lid doubles as a plate for the infuser after you finish steeping. Thought it’d be useful for your long writing sessions.”

Jean’s eyes sparkled. “It will be. Thank you, Tom.”

Tom grinned, looking very satisfied with himself.

Steve looked over at Jake. “Jake?”

Jake pulled his own gift bag out from under his seat. Everyone’s eyebrows shot skyward. It wasn’t that Tom’s presentation was _bad_ , it just didn’t hold a candle to Rachel’s (and this was already understated by Rachel’s standards. If given more time, Jake had no doubt the gift bag itself would’ve been covered with elaborate designs). Jake passed the bag over without a word, feeling very self-conscious.

“I almost don’t want to open this,” Jean murmured, fingering the tissue paper starburst/flower (Jake still hasn’t figured out which it was). Despite her words, she carefully pulled apart the tissue paper and the little silver bow, then opened the box. “Oh!”

Two silver filigree butterflies were nestled onto white velvet, their bodies accented by a pearl. Sparkles scattered across the gossamer wings, a shimmering gradient of teal and blue. A tiny rhinestone accented each wingtip.

Jean lifted one earring out of the box. The butterfly caught fire in the candlelight, resplendent.

“Wow,” Jean managed after a moment. Tom looked vaguely jealous.

“Wow,” Steve agreed, eyes wide behind his glasses. “I’m glad I only had to pick the restaurant. I’m not sure I could top these if I tried.”

“No doubt.” Jean carefully set the earring back into its place. “Jake, did you pick these by yourself?”

Jake squirmed. “I had a little help.”

His mother smiled softly but didn’t probe further. After all, Jake rationalized, adults helped each other pick presents all the time. It still counted.

“Thank you, Jake.” With exaggerated care, Jean closed the jewellery box and set the box back into the gift bag. “Honestly, earlier on, I really thought you’d given me a mop.”

Steve’s ears pricked up. “A mop?”

“He really had me for a moment there too,” Tom cut in loftily. “I didn’t think Jake had it in him. All innocent looks.”

“I guess we all have hidden depths, though I do hope this is the extent of its use.” Jean’s smile faltered as she darted a look at Jake’s gift bag again. “Jake, where’d you get this? It looks expensive.”

“Um…” Jake could feel himself turning red. Inside, his stomach was sinking. Rachel had a pretty good allowance and expensive tastes. She _was_ great at scoring insane deals, but this did look…expensive. He mentally kissed his allowance goodbye for the next year (maybe Rachel would take a payment plan? Would she charge interest?). “I mean, ah, it was— _augh! Tom!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry!” Tom righted the water glass he’d elbowed and frantically mopped at Jake’s sleeve with his napkin, which did little against an entire glass’ contents. Their parents hurriedly passed their napkins, and everything devolved into a flurry of limbs, soggy linen, and muffled (Jake) or not-so-muffled (Tom) cursing as they tried to stem the flood. Despite their best efforts, by the end of it Jake was sodden from his right sleeve to his lap, a dark stripe of grey and denim.

“Excuse me? Excuse me…” Their parents looked around for a server to bring more napkins, their question about the gift long forgotten. It gave Jake a moment for his brain to catch up with his mouth.

Tom shot him a smirk when their eyes met and lifted three fingers. _Save number three_. Jake glared at him and hissed under his breath, “that was my _nice_ shirt, Tom.”

Tom grinned back at him wickedly, utterly unrepentant. He leaned into Jake to whisper, “I’ll split you, dumbass.”

It was, Jake reflected, really really hard to glare at someone while fighting a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> The mop is actually a true story from my family (I was not the Jake, for the record). Unfortunately we did not have a Tom or Rachel to bail us out. XD


End file.
